Mom walked through the threshold, carrying my baby brother in a basket. Much as I expected, her lips were set in a thin line and her eyebrows hovered over her slanted eyes.

Mom was angry.

She had deep creases under her eyes and her usually radiant, dark skin was blotched. She noticed me staring at her from the top of the stairs.

“Rhea, my darling.” A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she set the basket down. “How are you?” A servant came forward to rid her of her spring coat, bowing before taking his leave. Another one picked up the basket and followed Mom upstairs.

When Mom reached me, I ran to give her a welcoming hug. “Hi, mommy! I’ve been very good while you were away.” I waited for her to pat my black hair, to which she did.

“Excellent,” she responded fondly. Mom’s high heels clicked against the floor. “I’m going to rest now, darling. Behave, okay?”

I nodded eagerly, my short curls bouncing, my grin broadening.

“That’s my little girl.” Mom disappeared behind a door and I heard the unmistakable sound of the lock. The servants bowed politely to my small frame and hurried away with the baby.

I waited a some more for good measure.

One...Two...Three...

As soon as I reached number sixty, my mask started to melt. Putting up the act was such a challenge. Playing the perfect daughter took much more energy than some believed. It made my muscles ache just thinking about the next bright, confident pearly whites I would have to use around everyone later.

I dashed down the hall, into the room Mom had arranged for the baby.

Silently and as carefully as I could, I pulled out a bobby-pin from the inside of my long-sleeve polo and inserted it into the lock. Typical of the servants to try and keep me out. I guess my becoming tainted wasn’t part of their plan.

My eyes darted around the corridor to make sure no one was watching me. When I was satisfied that the coast was clear, I picked through the lock, jangling the doorknob.

Click!

The room was dim and desolate. There were no decorations, toys nor light to make the baby feel welcome. The only thing who stood in the room was a crib.

Of course, there was no surprise on my part.

I closed the door and tip-toed towards the crib. As I approached, gurgling noises came from my destination. I grabbed a nearby chair to support my five-year-old self and climbed on top of it. Taking a deep breath, I peered inside.

And gasped.

Blankets covered his tiny form. Tufts of white hair sat on his round head and he stared right back at me with huge, red eyes. He barely had any eyebrows, but his lashes were long and curled at the tip. Rosy splotches covered his puffy cheeks.

He was perfect.

I touched one of his hands. He clasped my finger in between his fists and cooed, dribble running down his chin.

I carefully wiped it off with his blanket, never breaking my gaze from his, staring until I had every inch of his innocent face memorized.

I once overheard some of the house servants discussing something about birth complications and special projects. Mom was in the hospital for three months after giving birth. The best three months of my life, to be completely honest because if she wasn’t there, he was nowhere near me too.

No one thought the baby was going to make it since he was premature and weak. I was praying Mom would be the one not to make it, but unfortunately, wishes never come true.

It was selfish of me to be glad the baby had survived, and undergone his fated procedure. No one deserved to live here. Yet, I could not contain the warm feeling in my chest when I realized I was no longer alone. That perhaps, there was a God and a Heaven, a Greater One who paid heed to my secret prayers.

My life was going to serve a purpose, after all.

Many five-year-old girls played with dolls, had fun dressing up as princesses and ballerinas, and did whatever it was young kids liked to do. The ones I was acquainted with had wonderful parents watching over them, and lives I once yearned to have.

Me? It was different.

I was dead.

I died the moment I arrived at this house. Not physically. I was obviously breathing and responding to stimuli, but in the inside, I felt empty. An abyss of nothingness.

Everything changed the second my brother smiled. It was dorky and adorable, his few small teeth exposed. Those beautiful, big eyes stared up at me with all the admiration, curiosity and wonder I wished he would give me for the rest of his life.

No such thing. Life wasn’t fair, to begin with.

I patted his belly and a giggle escaped his lips. He kicked his tiny feet and swung his fists around. For the first time since I could remember, I felt my world becoming brighter.

Genuine.

Gone was the fake smile I wore in public. Gone was the nice, submissive girl act I displayed around Mom. Here was the big sister of an innocent baby, a boy most believed would go through the same experience as any child born into this residence. Here was the broken, little girl, distressed at what she knew she had to do and what the outcome would be like if she failed the role she had chosen for herself.

Yes, I was now the real Rhea Malakai.

“I’m sorry.” A tear ran down my cheek.

How long had it been since I cried? I could not remember. I did not even believe it would’ve ever happened again. It was very shocking, though that only made me even more determined to reach my goal. It only gave me the encouragement, the push I needed, to get my brother away from this messed up family.

To set him free.

“Forgive me, Jude,” I spoke to him in my softest voice, “But I’m going to have to destroy you.”